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Beggars Can't Be Choosers

WI4- R, First Ascent?

February 23, 2003

The eternal search for accessible, reliable ice in Washington continues. In
this installment, Jens, Dave, and Loren return to the increasingly controversial
'secret' ice location somewhere in the Cascades...

It's dusky when we leave the car; we can't see if the ice is in. So we embark
on the approach not knowing what we'll find. Dave had been there the week before
and spun tales of a new, easier, brush-free approach. We crossed the log, Jens
and I on our butts, and Dave walking in crampons, and headed for the creek bed.
Where Dave had found dry, plentiful boulders the walk on the week before, we
found high water and snowy, icy rock.

Later, we got a good dose of brush, but not as much as in previous approaches
to this area. I guess maybe we are getting the approach down.

Jens enjoys an uber-classic Cascades approach.

As we ascend the snow gets deeper. Eventually the snowshoes we've been
lugging earn their keep and stop us from sinking to our hips. We're all a little
disappointed when the ice comes into view.

It's largely snow-plastered, with little blue ice to be seen. I made this
approach, which is short in distance and long in tedium, earlier in the season
only to turn around without climbing anything. I am determined to climb some ice
today. I lead the charge across the flats, where we regroup and choose the line
with the most visible ice. Compared the much of the area, our choice is less
steep and shorter. The lines here are longer than they appear.

Less brushy, more snowy: I break trail from the rear.

The snow is deep here. We take turns breaking trail for the last 1/3 mile to
the base of our route. It doesn't look pretty, but we rack up, full of
excitement now.

Dave takes the first pitch, characterized by thin, snow-covered ice over
rock. After a full pitch with little gear he calls for us to send up some
additional rock gear. We oblige and he constructs a rock belay.

Dreaming of ice, finding only munge. Dave on lead.

Jens and I follow simultaneously on parallel lines. Jens pulls directly into
the belay, while I end up ten feet to the left, around a rock protrusion. I put
in a screw for immediate protection and peruse the next pitch, which looked to
be the crux from below. It starts with a steep, blobby pillar to my left, then
transitions into a series of gullies and steps, most of which are out of view
from my position. Jens racks up to lead and climbs past me to the pillar. It's
harder than it looks, and there is no gear. He climbs out of sight, and
apparently to the right, as I am suddenly in the fall line of all the debris
that comes loose. Ah, I forgot to mention earlier that my helmet was left in the
truck and I'm wearing a fleece hat with a glove tucked inside.

Beautiful day, scary ice. Jens leads the second pitch.

I tuck into a small corner and try to be as small as possible. Dave, to my
right and out of the shooting line, shouts when the bigger chunks come down. So
I spend the remainder of the lead with my face pressed into the rock and ice,
listening to ice whiz past. When it comes to a stop I clean the screw and
follow, with Dave close behind. The pillar is hard, much harder that it looked,
with a nasty sugar-snow top out. There is really no good ice on the pitch, and
little in the way of gear. I'm challenged on top rope.

The belay is cush: An easy stance on a large ledge. Above, the last pitch
looks just my style, though I feel sheepish for getting the easiest lead. We
swap gear and I lead up, finding some decent gear en route to a good tree belay
at the top.

We pack up and depart, racing darkness. We find a way back to the creek that
involves only 30 yards of mild brush and make the valley bottom just as darkness
falls. Jens sets off in the lead and we follow. Near the log crossing we get
turned around and Dave and I discover that our Avocet compasses are shit: His
continuously changes bearing while he holds it still, and mine shows the same
bearing regardless of which way it points. After some embarrassed stumbling
around we make it back to the car, where my helmet has enjoyed a lazy day off.

We each have a beer while we contemplate tedious approaches, the lack of
reliable ice in Washington, the importance of a compass, and old growth timber.

This page was last edited on
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